


I am not a lover.

by cadkitten



Category: Midnighter (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, M/M, Mental Enhancements, Mind Manipulation, Open Relationships, Out of Character, POV First Person, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 12:28:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6566221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My mind understands he has chosen the shortest path to my confession... that he knows I'm in control of this game right now, not him. For an instant, I wonder if he ever gets tired of this; if it ever makes him horribly angry in the dead of the night that I can direct us like marionettes upon the stage of life. Has he ever hated me as much as he loves me? Perhaps. It seems so easy to hate me at times; so easy to see things from an angle that leaves me painted in sin and deception and him wearing the halo of an angel. But I know the truth - that he's no angel, just as much as I am no devil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I am not a lover.

**Author's Note:**

> I started out with the intent to write Midnighter/Grifter and it turned into Midnighter/Apollo and I just... yeah, this is how it is. So the Midnighter/Grifter is not a prominent part of this, just so we're clear up front.
> 
> Guess I should warn that I've only read issues 1-8 of Wildstorm Midnighter, 1-6 of Midnighter & Grifter, and absolutely none of The Authority. I've read all of New52 Midnighter. So it's probably some strange version of both of them in the end. I was aware they get married at some point, but not that it was before Midnighter & Grifter (sorry y'all, I only just know it happens not when or where). So... just go into it with a grain of salt and you'll be fine.

There's never been a time in my life where I wanted something that was more incredibly _wrong_ for me than right here, in this moment. Everything we've been through in the last few days has been a tangled mess of what amounts to literal Hell in our little part of the solar system. Giant world-destroying space bugs seems like something that'd made it right to the top of the list; and trust me, it did.

Between a mission that was supposed to get Grifter killed and one that was supposed to be easy enough for me - a simple protection gig - and tossing in a little bit of whatever the hell it was that Zee brought us, it's been a damn fine week. But one that's left me confused and moodier than ever since I've returned to base. I don't like to spend a lot of time thinking on things in the personal sort of level, though it seems at least this time I cannot help but do so. 

Apollo's starting to notice my distance from him. I can see it in his eyes when he looks at me and I can deduct how he's going to try to corner me about it before he even thinks to do so. So far I've avoided the inevitable. But no matter how much I move around it, there is only one outcome in the end and the fight to get to it grows worse and worse by the day; the longer I leave it, the more it festers. 

But I am a fighter. I am not a lover, not a friend, and certainly not one to discuss my innermost workings until it is entirely inevitable. Foolish, perhaps... but how it has always been for me.

But today, I can feel his determination more than ever. The way he looks at me when he thinks I will not notice and the way he's holding his body - the tenseness in his shoulders and the slight lift of his chin. It's not enough for anyone else to see it. Not enough for anyone who has not spent hours analyzing his every single move to even comprehend what's coming. Part of me can't wait to see the shocked look on their faces when he finally snaps and we have one of our infamous fights right in front of them. The other part tells me, rationally, this should not be something done in a public space; that this is a conversation best held in private, before he loses it.

Just like that, I can see the clearest path with the least damage to both property and us. This one ends with relief, with a hazy and questionable future on one end of what I've been thinking about but a strong one for us; one that leaves him happier than he is now at the least. 

I walk right past him, our eyes meeting for a fraction of a second and then lead him to my room. When the door closes behind him, I take a seat on the edge of my bed, my resting my arms on my thighs in a hope that it'll look passive enough he won't take anything I say as a threat. The air feels heavy and I can tell he's working up the words to say what he needs to. But I also know where that path leads and as much as I am not a lover, as much as I am not a boyfriend or forever material... I don't want to lose him because of what he says in this moment either. And so, I follow my own path, knowing he will understand I'm directing us away from wherever his path would have gone.

"Some things happened on that assignment I haven't really wanted to talk about." I leave it at that for the moment, waiting on his inevitable curiosity, on the potential of two directions he can take this, either one working for what I'm aiming for right now. 

He sighs and turns to grasp my chair, dragging it over and settling astride it, leaning his arms on the back of it and watching me, ever silent. The easier of the two options settles into place and my mind understands he has chosen the shortest path to my confession... that he knows I'm in control of this game right now, not him. For an instant, I wonder if he ever gets tired of this; if it ever makes him horribly angry in the dead of the night that I can direct us like marionettes upon the stage of life. Has he ever hated me as much as he loves me? Perhaps. It seems so easy to hate me at times; so easy to see things from an angle that leaves me painted in sin and deception and him wearing the halo of an angel. But I know the truth - that he's no angel, just as much as I am no devil. 

I let my gaze rest on him for long enough he's starting to form up words anyway, but I don't give him time to spit them out. Ever intentional. "I would have died if _he_ hadn't decided to save me... and he died and I _did_ save him." I let the words paint the picture I need them to; to show him in a less horrible light than I know Apollo wants to see Grifter in. The history is hard to ignore and even more difficult for someone who didn't go through what I have to see beyond. But I know how this can end and I know if I keep his temper even and his emotions so carefully woven, I can direct it to where I want. 

The fleeting thought of how careful this game of manipulation is, of how some would find it deceitful and horrible that I can calculate this out in my favor. But I'd only tell them I am not a lover and it's something Apollo has been aware of long before getting involved with me.

My gaze focuses on his arms where they're draped over the chair and then slowly I drag it up to his eyes, holding his attention oh-so-carefully. It's past time for my admission, past time for me to tell him what I'm thinking; what I've been thinking about since I got back here. But I open my mouth and he beats me to it, setting my mind spinning, re-judging the situation as quickly as it can. I waited too long and now I have to compensate for it.

"You want to sleep with him." He's silent for a moment, looks away toward the wall behind my head. "Did you?"

There's regret sharp and painful in my side. But I have done nothing wrong in the physical sense of the word. My mind... has done a hundred things wrong. But that changes nothing in the world of reality. "Of course not." But I do not deny the truth of his previous statement. The answer is only for the actual question. 

He swallows thickly and I can't help but watch his throat work, can't help but remember the way his fingers feel crushed around my windpipe, squeezing and _hurting_ because we both know we can be reckless when it comes to me. My healing has had me covered for a lot of things no normal love could possibly have done. Including letting Apollo use his strength to actually _harm_ me during our times together. The thoughts derail me for a moment, unfocus me, and I can't find it in me to regret that either.

"What do you think of... having an open relationship?" There's a fearful little undertone in his voice and I know I have to dig at it, have to figure out what the fear is from before I can accept that this has come out my way. Quicker than anticipated, too.

I give him a careful nod and he glances at me and then away again. "Then it's an option if you want to take it." He starts to stand up, but I'm off the bed and behind him in an instant, leaning over him and the chair, pushing him back down against it, my chest pressed to his back, one gloved hand curved up under his chin and my pinky resting lightly against his throat. I can sense the way he's instantly turned on by my presence, by the way I'm pressing against him in a way we've not in a long time. But he's also ignoring it, refusing to respond to it, and that's all I needed to know.

"I will never do anything you do not honestly want." My voice is low, gentle against his ear as I rest my cheek against his own. "No matter how much this is exactly where I was aiming the conversation." I tell him because while I manipulate things, I have never been anything but honest about it when I do. "I won't do this if it causes you pain."

His hand comes to rest over my wrist and he leans back against me, pushing me a bit more upright in the process, his head resting against my chest. "Do you still wish to be with me?"

"I do."

"And how would you feel if I were the one trying to maneuver in order to sleep with someone else?" There's no malice in his voice, only curiosity, and I know I've already won. There's nothing I can do - even saying no - that will sway his mind from allowing me whatever I want in the future. 

"I would..." I almost tell him I wouldn't care. But is that the truth? I'm not so certain it is. To a degree, I think I would feel inadequate, as though I were not enough for him if he had to go looking elsewhere. But I also understand that the fractional degree of that feeling would be overridden by some piece of uncaring and that that piece sets us fully apart from one another in our reactions. My fingers drift over his collarbones and then back up to his throat, grasping and pulling him flush against me. "I enjoy your company when I have it. The way you make my body feel is beyond any other man I have ever taken. I would feel... a degree of uncertainty if you asked the same of me. But I would also let you have it without question."

He relaxes under my touch and his hand pulls mine up, drags it over his mouth and nose and then over his eyes and up into his hair. "Remind me." I know he needs this reassurance and that if I walked away right now, there would never be another thing between us but hostility. Perhaps... he is just as adept at manipulating me as I am with him. 

It doesn't take me but a fraction of a second to have him bent over the edge of the bed and only a fragile few more seconds before he's prepped and I'm inside of him, the realization that I've been aching for this the entire time flowing over me. The push of my hips is urgent and the response of his body is immediate... desperate. We move in a sweet tandem that's only born of those who have been together more times than life allows you to count. I know I could figure it out if I wanted to; if it mattered enough to go rooting around in time and space for all of our history together. But I find that it matters little while I'm pressed behind him like this.

He's quiet, just as he's always been, only the quiet rasp of his breath on the air as I take him. We have gone to the extremes of sexual relation and yet, I have never once managed to make him cry out for me. It's just now how he loves. My gloved hand pushes over the back of his neck and then slides around the front. I learned a few months ago that this is what he wants from me, that this is the thing he had been craving for. He's got his things - the pieces that stir him up hotter than the curry he graced my palate with last week - but he has never been verbal about them. He doesn't ask for them with words and he reacts only in body.

My hand grips tighter around his throat and I can feel the way he tenses slightly around me and then how he eases, as if challenging me to do more, to take this further. I tighten my grip and begin to squeeze tighter and tighter, the leather of my glove making the loudest sound in the room. My breath is held to hear his own reactions, to hear the way his hitches and then the strangled sound of barely pulled in air. I hear the way his bones and tendons protest and I know there will be a small fraction of time in which everyone will know what we've done and then that, too, will disappear. There's something vaguely pleasing about knowing I'll be marking him up, that my hand will be around his neck even when it is no longer.

I piston my hips even faster, the roughness of this act being what gets me going in the moment, what brings me closer to the edge. And without a thought, I clamp down as hard as I can and in an instant, he's tight around me and I hear the airflow halt its path into his lungs. His hands rake at the bed and then then he's straining, his hips bucking to meet my own and then pull away, his rhythm reckless enough that I understand what's happening before it does.

There's a few seconds of utter stillness and then he gives two wild bucks of his hips and I can feel him throbbing around me. I know the bed beneath him is getting decorated with the evidence of what this has done to him and I let my grip ease up and my body cover his as I haul him back so that my mouth can find his neck, tongue sliding over the nasty bruise of my thumbprint. He's gasping for air when I cum, when I finally push all the way inside of him and still myself, letting the ache become satisfied. 

My breath hitches and then eases and I lean my head back and give him a slow roll of my hips, listening to the way he pants for his breath now, the rasping hitch of a man that's been nearly strangled to death. Sliding my arm around his middle, I close my eyes and rest my cheek against his shoulder and tell him what I've known he needed to hear since the very first moment I started to play this game tonight. "You're all I need." It's not the lie I might have once thought it to be despite it not being the full truth of the matter either. But like this... with him... it's what I need for the time being, and Grifter is of little matter. While the chase would have been fun, he was never a sure thing, never something I could be certain I would obtain no matter how hard I tried. And for that, I would never trade what I already have. A man by my side that makes me work for it, that makes me ache and makes me _hope_. Nothing could ever replace that.


End file.
